A little over a month ago during an intense moment of food geekery, Claire, Stephane and I decided to make our own choucroute (sauerkraut) and saucisse(sausage) from scratch. The deal was that I’d make the sauerkraut and they’d tackle the sausages.

The next day I went out and bought a large head of cabbage and got started on my epic sauerkraut fermentation experiment. The following is a chronicle of the high and low points of the past 34 days.

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Tender chicken paprikash stewed with onion, peppers, and Hungarian Paprika, served over a bed of nokedli dumplings.

I love a thick hearty gulyás or a link of kolbász with székelykáposzta and have at times wondered if I may have been Hungarian in a past life. Or perhaps it’s just the convivial familiarity stemming from linguistic similarities with my mother tongue.

If you’re scratching your head wondering what Japanese and Hungarian could possibly share in common, allow me to elaborate. Japanese is an Altaic language along with Korean and Turkish. Hungarian is a Uralic language along with Finnish. Some linguists noted similarities between the two families and lumped them together as a Ural-Altaic family of languages. This hints at the possibility that Hungarians and Japanese may have had common ancestors that spoke the same proto-language back in the day.

Given the spread of East Asians through the region first by Huns and then by Mongols, the language similarities aren’t so surprising. While Japan was never technically conquered by the Mongols, there’s certainly some shared lineage if you go back far enough (I’ve even been mistaken for Mongolian on more than one occasion).

So with distant ancestral heritage established, I give you Paprikás Csirke (chicken paprikash) with Nokedli. It’s a great simple weeknight meal that only takes about an hour to prepare and rewards the palette with fall-off-the-bone chicken smothered in a rich onion pepper sauce. Because the paprika plays such a central role in the flavour of this dish, make sure you use real Hungarian sweet paprika.

To get the most flavour into this dish in a short amount of time, I did a couple of things. First, the skin-on chicken thighs are browned in a pan without a non-stick coating, this forms a thick layer of brown fond on the bottom of the pan. Think of the crusty brown “fond” as pure umami-laden chicken flavor. Then a lot of onions and bell pepper are added to the pot to release the fond from the pan, and add their own aromatic flavours. By cooking them until they are soft, it changes the flavour of the onions through a Maillard reaction, adding more depth and sweetness to the dish.

The paprika goes in for a quick fry to release the fragrant oils and then the chicken is added back with just a small amount of stock to bring it all together. The chicken and onions will release more moisture as they cook, so there’s no need to add a ton of liquid. This also helps make the sauce taste like it’s been cooking for hours since the flavours are much more concentrated. At the very end, a bit of yogurt and flour are mixed in to add some creaminess and body (sour cream is more authentic, but yogurt is what I had on hand). When adding the yogurt, it’s important to temper it first by adding increasing quantities of hot liquid to the yogurt, rather than dumping cold yogurt straight into a hot pot (a guaranteed way of making it curdle).

I like to serve this with Nokedli which is a Hungarian dumpling that’s very similar to the German Spätzle. While it’s traditionally made by hand shaping each piece, I’m not up for that kind of commitment, so I run the soft dough through a potato ricer, which extrudes perfectly rustic looking dumplings that could almost pass for Gemelli. A few squirts of dough into the boiling water and you’ll have enough Nokedli to feed 2 people in less time that it took you to read this paragraph.

The dumplings are a golden eggy yellow, with a dense chewy texture that compliments this dish perfectly. They’re also fantastic just tossed in butter with a little salt, pepper and cheese.


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Sorry for the long absence, but I have a good excuse or three. I was in Galveston for a few days attending a wedding (congratulations Travis and Keri!). I’ve also been having some medical issues that led to some minor surgery this past week. Nothing too serious, but it’s kept me out of the kitchen for a while. Lastly, we’re about 8 weeks away from launching our product at work, so I’ve been pressed to find time to cook, much less post about it.

I do have a backlog of stuff to post though, so I’m going to try getting them up, there just might not be as much witty banal commentary as usual. But enough of my lame excuses and on with the food.

This was something I made a few weeks ago with some Kielbasa from Flying Pigs Farm, which is the best Kielbasa I’ve had in ages. They’re at the Union Square Green Market every week and while pricey, their pork products are phenomenal. I also found some fresh unshelled lima beans which look a bit like small portly romano beans.

The Kielbasa just gets scored and tossed under a broiler (or bbq if you are so lucky), and the accompanying vegetables get a quick saute with some whole grain mustard and honey. Served with a slice of crusty toasted caraway rye bread and a frosty glass of Zywiec, it doesn’t take a stretch of the imagination to picture yourself sitting at a wooden bar in Kraków.

1 large Kielbasa sausage scored every 1/2″
1 Tbs oil
1 large onion sliced
3/4 C shelled fresh lima beans (fresh fava beans would work too, but don’t use canned ones)
1/3 C Zywiec or other pale lager
1 Tbs whole grain mustard
1 Tbs honey
salt and pepper to taste

Preheat a broiler pan in the oven with the rack in the top position (closest to the heating element). You’ll want to put the sausage in the oven about midway through the onions as it should only take a few minutes to brown. Place the Kielbasa on the preheated broiler pan and broil until golden brown, then flip and brown the other side.

Heat a saute pan over medium heat and add the oil. Put the onions in and saute until they are turning brown at the edges and soft. Add the lima beans, Zywiec, mustard and honey. Salt and pepper to taste.

Serve together with some crusty toasted bread. I used a whole wheat caraway rye bread.

No, this isn’t some reference to a bad horror flick from the ‘50, nor is this a post about a portly 80’s rockstar known for his power ballads. I’m giving it this name because it’s so good it will probably kill you. This is the most unhealthy thing I’ve come up with since I made that Cola Braised Bacon, but what fun is life without a bit of indulgence every now and then.

For those of you wondering why I’d risk a coronary for something that reminds many of school lunch mystery meat, you’ve probably not had a proper meatloaf. A good meatloaf should be firm enough to hold it’s shape, yet tender and moist, each bite bursting with flavour. The words watery, greasy, soggy or bland are NOT part of the meatloaf vocabulary. In my version I roll it with roasted peppers, bacon and hard boiled eggs to add little surprises when you cut into the loaf. Think of it like a juicy bacon cheeseburger with an emphasis on the hamburger.

For someone who preaches simple cooking I know the ingredient list is a bit long, but you probably have most of this stuff in your pantry, and if you don’t there’s a lot of room here to experiment with different flavours. Ginger Hoisin glazed meatloaf with Chinese 5 spice anyone? Unfortunately I’ve yet to come up with a successful veggie version of this, but if anyone has suggestions leave a comment.

What are your favourite flavours in meatloaf?

For those of you in NYC area, there’s a Beer ‘N Bloggers event in the LES, tomorrow evening (monday 6/9) at Spitzer’s Corner. I’ll be there and hope to see some of you there!

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